That brownish chicken
Whose uncouth beak
Has become the straw
Siphoning yolks
Off fellow chicken's eggs;
Yes, that brownish chicken
It too once looked yellow
Golden yellow
On the day it was hatched.
Yes it was once yellow too
Before it was smitten
By the scorching sun.
We live to see;
Who will strew yellow maize
To the yellow chick
And to see; if the yellow tinge
Will not wane and tan
In the sun;
Will the soft beak
Not harden
And the scratching feet
Become talons?
And should the vaccine
For the Yellow Fever
Lose potency
What lot will be left to cast
When the lots of this land
Have become Judases?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem